


Teacup, Meet Torchwood

by Etharei



Series: 'Horizons Sing' summer challenge [3]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alien Culture, Gen, Humor, M/M, Team
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-04
Updated: 2008-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 20:10:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etharei/pseuds/Etharei
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen finds a teacup on her desk.</p><p>Written for the <a href="http://horizonssing.livejournal.com">Horizons Sing</a> challenge, Day #3.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacup, Meet Torchwood

**Title:** Teacup, Meet Torchwood  
 **Author:** [](http://etharei.livejournal.com/profile)[**etharei**](http://etharei.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** PG  
 **Timeline:** late S2  
 **Spoilers:** up to "A Day in the Death" (208)  
 **Summary:** Gwen finds a teacup on her desk.  
 **Disclaimer:** Torchwood and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Russell T. Davies, the BBC and their affiliates. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes.

 **Written for:** [](http://community.livejournal.com/horizonssing/profile)[**horizonssing**](http://community.livejournal.com/horizonssing/) , Day #3.

> tea·cup /ˈtiˌkʌp/ [tee-kuhp]  
> –noun  
> 1\. a cup in which tea is served, usually of small or moderate size.  
> 2\. a teacupful.  
> —Idiom  
>  **3\. tempest in a teacup or teapot, a disturbance or uproar about little or nothing.**  
> 

  
_**Teacup, Meet Torchwood**  
by Etharei_   


“Ooh!” exclaims Gwen, picking up the cup on her desk. The aroma rising from the light green liquid is... different. Clear and clean. “Is this a new brew, Ianto?”

“Hm?” Ianto’s voice drifts down from the hothouse. He pokes his head out. “What did you say, Gwen?”

“New brew?” she repeats, holding up the cup.

Furrows form on his forehead. “I haven’t done the evening tea round yet.”

Oh. Gwen looks at the liquid in the mug. “What’s this, then?”

“Maybe one of the others made it?” suggests Ianto, walking briskly down the stairs. But his tone and expression are uncertain; it’s an unspoken rule that nobody is allowed to mess around with the tea and coffee supplies without Ianto’s explicit permission and supervision. There are certain limitations to what each person is trusted to handle: Tosh has a free hand with the tea, Jack and Owen with the cheaper beans, Gwen with the syrups and cream.

The two of them gaze critically at the liquid in the cup. After a moment, Ianto ventures, “The color resembles tea, but the viscosity is slightly higher than normal water, less than honey, and it doesn’t smell like any type of tea I know.”

“Is it just me, or is it moving?” The surface of the liquid, Gwen notices, is swirling somewhat more forcefully than her semi-steady hand can be causing it to. She quickly puts the cup down on her desk.

“Something wrong?” Tosh’s voice pulls them out of their close observation.

“Found the teacup on my desk, thought it was tea,” explains Gwen. Tosh joins them around her desk. “But Ianto says it’s not, and he didn’t put it there.”

“What is it, then?” Tosh leans down, examining the cup as well as the liquid. It’s white with little designs on the cover and around the base. But while they all have their own personal mugs for coffee, there are enough tea cups in the base to serve a platoon tea, and even Ianto isn’t sure he knows them all.

With the cup on the desk, it becomes clear that the liquid is definitely moving under its own power. The ripples and swirls are growing, miniature waves lapping at the inner sides of the cup. “Dunno,” says Gwen. “But I nearly drank it. Could be an alien life form, for all we know. Who’d leave something like that lying around?”

The trio look at each other, and as one shouted, “OWEN!”

“Persecution, I tell you. I haven’t left the autopsy bay in _three hours_.” Loud footsteps, and Owen appears at the top of the stairs that lead down to said bay. There’s a smudge of something dark on his chin and elbows. “What can I possibly have done now?”

“Did you leave this cup on Gwen’s desk?” asks Ianto, moving to one side and gesturing to the cup.

Owen steps closer, frowning at it. “No, last cup I touched was made of plastic and had a Kivekra finger inside it. What is that, and why is it moving?”

They all turn back to the object, and the liquid is indeed moving a great deal more rigorously than it had been. Swirl and swell and splash, waves nearly reaching the top of the cup, a whirlpool at the very center. The cup itself, not all that big and with a narrow base, begins to quiver.

“’s like a miniature storm,” remarks Owen. “What should we do with it?”

“Poach a small egg?” Ianto suggests, earning him a glare. “You can try sticking a finger in it.”

Owen’s glare intensifies. “Sod off.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” says Gwen.

“Sod off with a fuck-you on top.”

“You’re already dead,” Ianto points out, somewhat heartlessly. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Owen grimaces. “This is _Torchwood_ , mate; you don’t want to find out.”

Gwen looks around. “Where’s Jack?”

“In his office, important phone call,” replies Ianto.

“We should probably tell him about this.” Tosh tentatively strokes the side of the cup.

“Tell me about what?” Four heads turn to where Jack is standing at the door to his office, evidently finished with the phone call.

They move aside to let him see the object of their discussion. “Gwen found this on her desk,” Ianto explains.

Jack walks towards them. However, the concern in his expression gives way to delight when he sees the item in question. “I haven’t seen one of these in _years_!”

“What is it, Jack?” asks Gwen.

“Watch.” Jack holds the cup firmly by the handle and turns it upside down. To the team’s surprise, nothing falls out, and when Jack turns it the right way up again, the surface of the liquid is smooth, tranquil. “It’s a snowglobe. Not that the makers called it that, but it’s basically what it is. A souvenir for tourists.”

“Why is it shaped like a teacup?” asks Tosh. “And what was it doing on Gwen’s desk.”

“The containers come in many different forms; this one just happens to be a teacup.” Jack turns the object around in his hands, examining the handle closely. “As for it being on Gwen’s desk, I can’t say.”

“I carried in a box of harmless miscellaneous alien artifacts up from the storage room earlier, to put into the archive,” admits Ianto. “The box is still on the table by the couch, and I _did_ go past Gwen’s desk. Didn’t notice anything falling out, though.”

“Considering you had your eyes on Jack up there in the hothouse, you wouldn’t have,” Owen comments with a mocking smile. “So is that it? It’s just a snowglobe?”

“Yup, nothing to worry about.” Jack grins. “I think I’ll keep it in my office; I’ve been to the Gale Lakes, fell overboard three times in one hour.”

Ianto suddenly chuckles. “Tempest in a teacup,” he says to the others’ inquiring looks, as if that explained everything.

“’A disturbance or uproar about little or nothing’”, clarifies Jack, smiling fondly at Ianto.

Owen looks between the two of them. “I dread to think of what the pillow-talk between the two of you is like.”

“Well, when he leaves me enough breath for _talk_ -“ begins Jack, but is summarily interrupted by Owen making a loud noise of protest before rushing back to autopsy, and Ianto announcing something about more paperwork and pulling Jack towards the Captain’s office.

Tosh and Gwen look at each other, in the wake of the men’s abrupt departure. Gwen finally says, fondly, “Mad old world, this place.”

Nodding in agreement, Tosh figures that they probably won’t see hide nor hair of Jack and Ianto for another hour, and heads to Ianto’s area to make some tea.


End file.
